


The Thief

by JaybirdSpectacular



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Beta Read, First Meetings, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, thief Ashe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaybirdSpectacular/pseuds/JaybirdSpectacular
Summary: A break-in leads to an unexpected meeting with a strange, yet charming, thief.'"A deep breath, then Dedue rushes the door, throwing it open with an explosive bang. A startled yelp, not his own, echoes off the walls. The smell of ginger and cinnamon instantly assault him. It’s barely noticeable as he’s crushed under senseless disbelief when he locks eyes with another person."
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	The Thief

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my two lovely friends who beta read this for me and fielded my constant stream of text messages. Y'all are the best and I adore you.

In his sleep-addled mind, Dedue can’t quite pick out what woke him up. He thinks he may have heard a noise outside, a car or someone out for a late-night stroll. It could have even been his own anxieties, soundless and heavy. He keeps his eyes forcefully closed, attempting to drift back to sleep, but when he has laid silently for what feels like an eternity, he knows that it’s futile. Thoughts racing through his mind won’t allow him to rest any longer, a far more common occurrence than he’d like.

If he’s going to be awake, he might as well begin the day. He checks his clock. It’s very early in the morning, still dark outside, but there is plenty to do before he opens the café. Living in the apartment above his workplace gives him plenty of time to get ready in the mornings, but it still never hurts to get an early start.

The streetlights filter through the cracks of his too-thin curtains, washing his room in a faint glow. Dragging himself from bed is difficult in the winter chill. Duscur was always much warmer than here, in Faerghus. The flannel shirt he tugs over his head should suffice to stave off the cold, especially once he starts moving and his kitchen begins warming.

As is ritual, he takes care when covering the inked name on his arm. Mint-green ink reflects the light from outside, giving it a spiritual glow. He brushes his fingers over the soulmark lightly. It is the name of the person he will have a special bond with, written in ink the same color as their eyes. The bond is something deep, emotional, full of trust, unexplainable even by those who have experienced it. Thinking of it has never failed to give him comfort. Whether his soulmate ends up being platonic or romantic, it doesn’t matter to Dedue. The day they finally meet will come soon, and Dedue will patiently wait until it does.

A comfortable pair of tennis shoes wait for him at his bedroom door, lined up neatly against the wall. A yawn escapes as Dedue clicks closed the door that separates his apartment from the stairwell. This will be a long day, the sleep deprivation already hanging heavily on the insides of his eyelids.

A sudden crash erupts from downstairs, unmistakably the shattering of glass. The sharp clarity of adrenaline drives away his exhaustion. Dedue freezes in place as realization hits him hard in the chest: someone is here.

A weapon would be useful, but he can’t immediately think of anything in his room, nor does he want to alert the intruder by shuffling around. His cell is out of the question; he forgot to charge it before going to bed.

Dedue is naturally tall and wide, and he visits the gym frequently. As long as he can catch the intruder off guard, his own strength should suffice to disarm and restrain them.

Stepping lightly and avoiding the squeaky steps, he makes his way quietly to the downstairs dining area, slipping easily through the darkness of his home. The only sound is shuffling from the kitchen.

Dedue sneaks around the corner of the stairwell. In the dark of the café, he can’t see much, but he knows the layout well enough to slide his way silently through the room. The plants he has scattered about make for frightening shapes along the windows, the wooden tables and chairs draped with colorful patterns from Duscur obstacles for him to avoid. It’s his own home, filled with pictures of Duscur landscapes and his family, yet _he_ feels like the trespasser as he is forced to creep his way through.

There’s a soft light coming from the kitchen. He avoids being caught in it by crouching next to the empty display case. He needs a plan.

Inside the kitchen, there is an exit to the outside. From here, he could sneak out the front of the café, come in through that back door, and take the thief by surprise. But, no, doing that will take time, and by then, the thief may flee.

Only one option left. He slinks under the counter, approach quiet. A shadow dances in the window of the kitchen door, an unclear image of the intruder.

A deep breath, then Dedue rushes the door, throwing it open with an explosive bang. A startled yelp, not his own, echoes off the walls. The smell of ginger and cinnamon instantly assault him. It’s barely noticeable as he’s crushed under senseless disbelief when he locks eyes with another person.

Bodies frozen, their eyes rove over each other.

The young man, no older than Dedue’s 25, has slicked back silver hair and green eyes blown wide with surprise. He’s dressed in simple clothes: a purple hoodie, jeans torn at the knees, and scuffed tennis shoes that may have once been a brighter white. In his tightly clenched hands is not a weapon, but one of Dedue’s brooms. Dedue’s eyes flicker to the ground, where there is broken glass and spices scattered across the floor. The initial shock begins to wear off as a tight cord of tension pulls Dedue’s eyes back up. The fingers around the broom tighten, the green eyes narrow.

A beat passes between them.

Like a clap of thunder, both explode into action. The broom flies, hard and fast past Dedue’s head where it clatters against the wall behind him. He rushes forward.

With a lithe and quick spin, the thief scrambles for the back door. Dedue reaches it just as the door cracks open, swinging in with a breath of cold winter air. He slams it shut with a piercing boom, the sound ringing through his hands on the cool metal. His full weight against the door stops it from reopening. Only quick and hard breathing lingers in the air. Boxed in between the steel door and Dedue, the thief turns to face his captor.

There is a head of difference between their heights, but they may as well have been at equal standing with how fierce, determined, and unafraid of a glare Dedue’s eyes meet.

Closer, Dedue can see that the baggy hoodie drapes broad shoulders, and he can’t help but to wonder if the rest of the clothes conceal a muscular body – one that would aid a desperate struggle, should the thief choose to attack.

The last thing Dedue wants is a fight. Unless he’s defending himself or another, violence is loathsome. He schools his expression into something neutral, not angry, but not welcoming, either. A blank, assessing stare.

Still, that intense gaze doesn’t waver.

It is surprising when the thief swallows and speaks.

“Ah, hello there.” Chipper and polite, it sounds like he’s greeting someone he’s bumped into at the supermarket. The words and tone contrast sharply against the unwavering glare still trained on Dedue.

Some detached, ridiculous part of Dedue’s brain whispers that stubborn glare might even be _charming._

The thief continues. “Is this your kitchen, perhaps? I must’ve gotten lost.” Despite the bravado, there is an undercurrent of nerves to his voice. Curious attitude for a common criminal. It’s possible that this isn’t an ordinary occurrence at all. Dedue considers the idea and decides to reserve his judgments for now.

His face softens of its own volition. “Tell me right now why I shouldn’t call the police.” Dedue won’t, regardless of the answers he receives, but that little tidbit can remain a secret for now.

A sigh belies the transition from stark determination to resignation, a sad smile slowly taking over the blistering ferocity. “I can’t. You probably should. I was stealing from you, after all.”

Dedue sighs. “Dare I ask how much you took?”

The man moves to open up his messenger bag. Dedue realizes a half-second belatedly that there could be a weapon inside. Instead, he sees some of the leftover bread he had made yesterday snuggled carefully inside. “Two loaves, and I couldn’t help but to take some of those delicious looking cherry danishes, my brother is a fiend for them, you see.”

Dedue blinks at him. “I meant how much money.”

“Oh! No money! Just food. All my pay went to rent this week, since it increased again, and we were short. I swear I haven’t done this since I was a kid, but my siblings have important exams this week and if they do well they could get full scholarships, and they definitely can’t on empty stomachs so – ” Suddenly, the rambling stops. “I’m so sorry, I’m just making excuses.”

Dedue’s stomach sinks as his earlier suspicion is confirmed. His eyes roam over the man’s face, sharp, dotted with freckles, green eyes shimmering brightly with desperation. Dedue stops, recognizing that look. He held it once himself.

“If I move,” Dedue starts, “do not run. I would like to talk— _talk._ No cops.”

Those green eyes dart left, right, and up again, the gears in the man’s mind almost visibly whirring as he calculates his chances. They must come up to zero as he answers. “Really? Not gonna press that button under the counter, get them here and riled up? Because again, I really understand.”

Dedue shakes his head, cutting off the rambling before it starts again. Not that he even has one of those buttons, anyway. He’s met with a beaming smile.

 _Charming_ , that loopy, ridiculous part of his brain reminds him.

“Then, sure, I guess— Oh! Let me finish cleaning!” In a blink, the man is no longer between Dedue and the door as he ducks under and out — could he have done that at any point? Dedue stands straight quickly, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over him and watches as sleeves are rolled up, ready to work.

The freckles from the man’s face continue until they sprinkle over the soulmark written on his forearm. Dedue does a double take when he catches a glimpse of the name, but the man is already picking up the broom to sweep up the last of the broken glass and spices. He’s moving too much for Dedue to confirm what he thinks he saw.

“I did some real damage, huh,” he mumbles, looking at the destruction. Dedue just knows that he’ll be sweeping up spices for weeks, and that it would end up being tracked everywhere in the café. Though, he isn’t angry. Upset and flustered, maybe, but not angry.

Dedue’s thoughts flash back to the glow of those fierce eyes.

Not just green. The color of mint.

Dedue snaps back to attention as he realizes he’s being spoken to. “I can pay you back, but uh, not all at once – err, I guess I’m not in the position to negotiate.” The man turns toward Dedue, though his eyes are to the floor, focused on his task. He’s quiet, the scratching of the broom filling the silence, and Dedue thinks distantly that he is waiting on an answer.

That answer is left unsaid. Dedue is finally given a clear view of the other’s soulmark.

Clearly and cleanly written in teal ink is Dedue’s own name. The color matches his eyes perfectly, and Dedue isn’t a common name. The chances of this soulmark pointing to him are high, he knows. He’s battered by a range of emotions, unsure if he’s elated or bewildered or something else entirely.

 _Charmed_ , whispers that maybe not-so-wrong voice in his mind again.

The sound of sweeping stops, and Dedue realizes he’s been blatantly staring. The man’s cheeks tinge a light pink, and he looks away when their eyes meet. Dedue wants to slap himself when the curiosity of how dark that flush can become flits idly across his mind.

“Oh, my soulmark. It’s a lovely name, isn’t it? I haven’t met them yet,” the man mumbles, eyes lowered. Dedue’s heart skips a beat, the possibility an almost crushing weight.

Now that everything is calming down, and the thief has proven that he isn’t a threat, Dedue can appreciate just how attractive his potential soulmate is. Eyes that spark with emotion, hair so soft-looking, it’s begging to be ruffled and smoothed and tousled again. And those freckles, curse them, make a beautiful trail from the man’s cheeks to his shirt line.

Dedue swallows, glad his long-sleeved shirt covers the name written on his own arm. This is not the time for this, and they still need to talk about what happened here tonight. Soulmate or not, Dedue wants more explanations, wants to know more of the story here. An idea is forming in his head, but he needs more information before he can plot it out fully.

The remaining glass is swept into a dustpan. Dedue takes the broom and replaces it in its corner, leaving the failed thief to fiddle with his fingers.

“Oh!” He reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out the bread, setting it on the nearest counter.

“No, keep it,” says Dedue, striding over to take it and push it back into the man’s hands. “I don’t mind.”

Dedue is treated again to that lovely blush as the food is accepted by shaking hands and returned to the messenger bag.

Dedue takes them into the dining room, to a set of green plush chairs, draped with blue and orange patterned blankets, facing each other across a coffee table. A pause, and Dedue’s unexpected guest takes a seat first, hesitant, with a resigned sigh.

“What is your name?” Dedue asks as he sits, despite his pleas to his traitorous lips to remain silent on that matter. Knowing his name might change the course of this conversation. There are more pressing matters to discuss, though the logical part of his mind is fighting a losing battle with the side that simmers with anticipation.

“A-ah. If there’s any chance you’ll let me go after this talk, I’d prefer to keep that a secret.”

Relief and disappointment war in Dedue’s chest, but ultimately, he is glad. The matter of soulmates is an extra layer of befuddlement on top of this whole situation.

“Guess I’ll keep calling you thief, then,” Dedue deadpans. Hopefully his smile conveys the joke. “So, let’s talk, thief.”

To Dedue’s delight, his teasing elicits a bristling glare that is more cute than angry. Another flush forms on those freckled cheeks, and the thief ducks his head, not looking at Dedue as he begins to speak.

“I’m raising my younger brother and sister alone,” he says solemnly. Dedue’s humor slides away as he listens. “It had been going okay, we were staying afloat. But I just took a pay-cut at my shitty job, and it’s hard to find better work without a high school diploma. They’re still minors, and I’m afraid they’ll get taken from me if I go for help, and— Goddess, I’m sorry, this is just a sob story, isn’t it?”

Dedue shakes his head. “The rest of your family?” he asks, though he already suspects what the answer will be.

A bitter chuckle. “Our parents passed away when we were young, and we were adopted by a distant relative. But he, and our adoptive older brother… they’ve passed on, too.”

Dedue regards this stranger for a moment, thinking. Any dregs of distrust Dedue still held, little as there were, melt away, replaced by sympathy. “I understand. This café belonged to my parents before… it’s just me and my sister, now. Things were difficult for a while.” He honestly, truly understands.

Fluttering eyelids blink away forming tears rapidly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yours, too.”

They regard each other in silence for a moment. Though Dedue is unsure of how he is viewed by the other, he is sure that, despite the circumstances, this is a good, gentle soul sitting in front of him.

The stupid idea from earlier reenters Dedue’s head. He knows it’s illogical. He’s an idiot for even considering it.

But Dedue can’t let this kind man go, not when he needs help. He should consider it longer, but –

“Work here,” his lips betray him once again. They blink at each other in surprise as the weight of Dedue’s words settles on the table between them, his hand fully shown in this game. Dedue continues. “You can work off the damages.”

Who is this man before him that has taken over Dedue’s words and lips so completely?

He could take them over in other ways, too, if he wants—

Dedue shuts that dizzying thought down hard, slamming it into a trunk in his mind, locking it and throwing the key far away. He prays his blush isn’t as visible as it feels, but judging by raised brows and slight frown, it seems Dedue’s prayers are not answered.

The man opens his mouth, but Dedue isn’t finished yet. “You — and your siblings, of course — can stay in my spare room, though it will be a squeeze. I won’t charge you. Your pay will be enough for you to eat, and you can help yourselves to whatever isn’t sold during the day.”

A deal too good to be true, Dedue knows, not believing _himself_ as he says it. Disbelief is reflected back at him even as a sparkling joy takes shape in those lovely mint eyes.

A moment passes as the man’s expression shifts between curiosity, joy, disbelief, distrust, each emotion sliding one into the other, smooth like ink to a page. “Why are you being so kind?” he asks, incredulousness lacing his tone, “I broke in here intending to steal—”

Dedue snorts. “Two loaves of bread and some pastries. And then you tried cleaning up—” A thought crosses Dedue’s mind. “Why didn’t you run when you made all that noise?”

It feels like a prize each time Dedue’s words bid that flush to those freckled cheeks. “Like I said, it’s been a while, and I didn’t consider that someone _lives_ here, and I couldn’t just leave it like that…”

Dedue can’t help the chuckle, almost a full laugh, but not quite. Louder than he’s used to hearing from himself. A surprised look, then he is joined in the laughter, both men chuckling.

The corners of the man’s eyes are softened by a gentle smile. “I accept, if you’re sure. It’s weird, but I feel like I can trust you.”

“I’m sure, and I feel the same” says Dedue, though he suspects he knows why. “But I’ll need a name for the payroll.”

The man nods. “I’m Ashe.”

The name written on Dedue’s arm tingles, hearing itself spoken aloud by the very man it belongs to. Dedue smiles warmly. “I’m Dedue.”

“Oh?” Ashe’s eyes widen as his hand goes to Dedue’s name on his arm. His eyes are the widest they’ve been this entire night. “ _Oh_.”

Finally, Dedue can roll up his sleeve, proudly displaying Ashe’s name, the mint green ink sparkling in the low light, not unlike Ashe’s own eyes. Ashe is completely red, a full flush. “This is not how I expected to meet my soulmate,” Ashe mumbles, “Sorry, you must be terribly disappointed that it’s someone like me.”

Dedue shakes his head. “No, I’m not. All I know of you is what I’ve learned tonight, and I’m not the least bit disappointed in that.”

Ashe starts so suddenly he knocks his knee against the table and curses. Dedue stands to lay a steadying hand on Ashe’s bare arm. A spark jolts through Dedue at the contact, an almost painful mixture of butterflies, happiness, and nerves.

It feels _right._

Ashe doesn’t pull away, his gaze soft, the corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Thank you, Dedue.” He says Dedue’s name softly, whispered like a secret he’s holding close to his heart. “I should get home, my siblings...”

“Of course. Wait here a moment, if you would.” Dedue heads back into the kitchen, wraps up some more loaves and pastries into a paper bag to add to what Ashe already has. He wishes he had something more substantial, but this would have to do for now. Maybe he could treat Ashe and his siblings to a real, home-cooked dinner soon.

Ashe is hovering by the counter when Dedue leaves the kitchen, already shaking his head in refusal. He waves off Dedue as he tries to pass the bag over the counter.

“No. No way. I am absolutely not accepting that.”

Dedue raises a brow. “Shall I turn my back so you can steal it instead?” he says, letting a bit of sarcasm filter through to make his point. “Just take it. If it makes you feel better, you can add it to your tab.”

Ashe pouts, gifting Dedue that blush again. The bag crinkles as Ashe takes it, settling it beside the other breads in his bag. They almost didn’t fit, reassuring Dedue that Ashe and his family would have enough for now, at least. “Thank you…” With a whiplash of excitement, his pout switches into a full grin. “I’m not a half-bad chef myself. I’m sure I could whip you up something to pay you back!”

“With my supplies?” Teasing, with a slight smirk. Though that is nice to know. Dedue thinks he could enjoy cooking with Ashe.

Ashe sputters nonsense syllables for a moment before finding real words again. “I’ll figure something out. I promise I’m going to pay you back.”

Ashe isn’t under any obligations – Dedue simply wants to help this kindred spirit, soulmate or not. Besides, Dedue knows that sometimes, rarely, soulmates don’t work out for any number of reasons. Social status, timing, fear. Many soulmates take their relationship slowly, and that’s under more normal circumstances.

This situation with Ashe sits on a precarious cliff. Straining their new, fragile acquaintanceship could leave fractures that would never stitch back together. And Dedue knows already that Ashe is someone he never wants to lose. “There is no pressure. Not with the job, and especially not with the…soulmates issue. We can figure that out later if you like.”

Ashe nods, relief washing over his face. “Thank you.” He chuckles, a hint of nervousness lining it, making the laugh just shy of manic. “This is a lot to take in. I want to get to know you better as friends before…anything.”

Dedue wonders if his blush is as obvious and deep as Ashe’s, wonders if ‘anything’ holds the same implications in Ashe’s mind as it does Dedue’s.

Ashe continues chattering, something Dedue has already figured out is a nervous habit. “And plus, as long as my siblings are here— you really don’t mind, right?— I can’t imagine anything happening…” His eyes widen comically. “Not that I’m imagining— I swear, I— ah.” Dedue is very sure now that he could never blush as much as Ashe.

Dedue laughs, deciding to let Ashe off the hook for now. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early to work out the details, if you are free?” Ashe nods, words seeming to finally fail him.

He takes them to the front door, unlocking it. Ashe turns as he exits, facing Dedue.

“Thank you. Again. I don’t know that my words hold any weight, but I promise to pay back every penny.” Ashe looks to his feet, biting his lower lip as he seems to be thinking over something. “I’m… I’m happy to have met you.”

In a quick, graceful motion, Ashe lifts himself onto his toes, steadying himself by gripping Dedue’s shirt. He pulls Dedue down just enough to plant a soft, quick kiss on the cheek before falling to his heels again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ashe says in a rush. He’s gone and out of sight before Dedue snaps himself from his daze.

Ashe may have only intended to steal bread, but it seems he escaped with something far more precious instead. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> You can find me [here](https://twitter.com/JaybirdSpec) on Twitter!
> 
> I'd love to hear from you!  
> Edit: I am now working on a part 2 that will be a separate fic!
> 
> Edit2: whoops did I say part 2 by the end of February I meant the first weekend in March
> 
> Edit 3: whoops did I say  
> Listen it's written and currently being beta read and after some more edits it'll be ready but listen it exists part 2 exists


End file.
